


I Miss The Misery

by audhds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Broken Bones, Dean Hallucinates, Dean Has Issues, Dean Has Nightmares, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean-Centric, Hallucinations, Homelessness, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Stabbing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audhds/pseuds/audhds





	I Miss The Misery

I Miss the Misery

I've been a mess since you stayed.  
I've been a wreck since you changed.  
Don't let me get in your way.  
I miss the lies and the pain,  
The fights that keep us awake,  
I'm telling you.

Wandering along the street with his headphones in, only one side working, Mark made his way back home. It had been a bad day. No, scrap that, it had been an awful day, catastrophic. He had just lost thousands in an investment deal, his fiancé had broken up with him, he had spilt beetroot juice on his favorite silk tie – not his usual choice but he had been trying to loose some weight for the wedding- fat lot of use that was…and it was raining. I mean seriously, talk about let it all rain down on him.

Just as things couldn't get any worse Mark's IPod stopped playing halfway through the Hoosier's 'Worst Case Scenario.' He couldn't help but pick up on the irony. Now, left with nothing left to listen to but the insistent pattering of rain on the ground and the howl of ambulance sirens, Mark couldn't help but hear a low groaning sound coming from a nearby alley.

Seriously, people were at it like rabbits these days, don't they have enough self respect to at least make it to a crappy motel first. Really!

Mark put his headphones in again out of principle, despite them not producing any more sound, but he could still hear the strange noises. The closer he got to the alley in question the louder they became, but now it didn't sound like someone was having public sex, it sounded as if someone was in pain. A lot of pain.

Dropping his briefcase Mark sprinted over to the alley, freezing when he saw the huddled figure of a man on the floor, lying in a pool of blood.

"H-hello?" Mark couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice as he approached the wounded man, who was shaking violently from a mixture of cold, fear and shock.

"S'm." The man rolled over a little, bright green eyes peeking out above the deep purple bags and surrounding bruising. The closer Mark got, the more injuries he could see. The man's cheeks were covered in cuts and bruising, his face swollen and tender. The man’s arm was also hanging limply within his worn leather jacket and Mark could see that his entire torso was drenched in a mixture of dried and fresh blood coming from what seemed to be multiple stab wounds. It was a wonder that he was conscious. He must have been a real fighter to survive this long.

"It's all right mate, you're going to be fine. I'll call an ambulance." Mark tore off his scarf and held it tight to the man's stomach, where one of the a deep stab wounds was visible.

"N-nhsptals."

"Pardon?"

"N-no. S'mmy. M'sry we fought. M'sorry. Please!" The man tossed his head from side to side frantically, tears streaming from his eyes as he jarred his agonized face.

"It's ok. You need to go to hospital, but I promise I will find your Sammy."

"SAMMY! Need Sammy. I miss Sam. M'sorry. My fault. I need you." The man on the floor seemed to grow even more agitated, reaching out a trembling hand and grabbing Mark's shirt, fisting it tight. Despite the cold and rain the man's hand was boiling hot and Mark was sure that the man had a severe fever.

"I'm nothing without Sam. Dad said I need to look after- I-failure…need Sam. You have to get him. Need…" Dean gasped in pain, his hand flying back to his stomach in a poor attempt to keep the blood in.

"I'll get him, try to relax." When the leather and jeans clad man collapsed, his eyes rolling back, Mark sighed. That wasn't quite what he had meant by relax.

Grabbing his mobile Mark dialed 911, voice shaking when he asked for an ambulance, briefly explaining that he had found a badly beaten and stabbed man in an alley. He never would have guessed that those words would ever come out of his mouth. It seemed like something out of a TV show. These things didn't actually happen in reality did they?

When he put his mobile back in his pocket Mark placed both hands over the crumpled figures wound, forcing himself to keep the pressure on, even when the man came round again and began to groan, still with his eyes screwed shut.

"It's ok. You're ok. You're safe now; I won't let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Cas?" Mark looked confused, seeing that the man's green eyes were staring right up at him.

"I-"

"Cas, you came. Y-you came. W-where were you? I-I kept praying for you to come. Why didn't you c-come? N-need you're help. Sam…" Mark didn't have a clue what to say or do, his response coming out as stuttered as the wounded man's. The guy was clearly delusional. Or hallucinating, or both of the above.

"I-I was busy?" It was more of a question than an answer.

"D-did you hear my calls? Or w-were you just ignoring all incoming m-messages when the name Dean popped up on your angel-radios' ID s-screen. D-did you r-really fall that far?" So the man's name was Dean, at least that settled one thing.

"No, I um-I…"

"Y-your mojo, did you t-turn it off." Mojo?

"Uh, yeah, sorry."

Dean seemed to slump down a little before reaching out and taking a clump of Mark's short, dark brown hair and staring into his blue eyes. Then, suddenly Dean let go as he began to shake and dry heave.

"Y-your coat. W-where's your coat?"

"I'm wearing it?"

"N-no. T-trench coat."

"Look, I…"

"No"

"Hey, it's alright man, I'm not…"

"Wh-you're not Cas. G-get away. G'WAY! P-please don't. L-eave me alone. PLEASE!" Dean began to thrash, curling in on himself and pulling away from Mark's helping hands.

"Hey, hey, calm down. I'm Mark. I'm gonna help."

Dean's eyes seemed to have glazed over, he was staring at the space a fair few inches away from Mark's head. Then he began to convulse, yelling obscenities at the man and threatening him with "Ruby's knife," which didn't sound like something Mark wanted to encounter.

"NO!"

"Shhh, help is coming. Don't hurt yourself."

"SAAAAAAM!" Dean screamed as loud and hard as he could, causing his throat to burn.

"I will get Sam; Sam will meet you at the hospital. Please?!"

"G-get away you b-black eyed son of a b-bitch." What? Well, that's new.

"It's ok; my eyes are blue, look, blue." Mark tried to illustrate his point but Dean began to thrash his uninjured, well less injured arm around, forcing Mark to move back. He didn't want to have his blue eyes gouged out. His day had been bad enough already!

"D-demon. Y-you're lying. Demons lie. I'll k-kill you, you black eyed bitch…send you back to hell where y-you belong. I-." Dean fainted halfway through his shouts, leaving an incredibly startled stranger staring blankly down at his limp body, wondering what he could do.

Dean was clearly out of it, delusional, mad even. Maybe he was dangerous. Was the man always like this or was it just the fever? Mark didn't particularly want to find out but he knew he couldn't just leave him here to bleed out in agony.

Two minutes later Mark let out an audible whoop of delight, he had heard the sound of sirens approaching. He then began to call out until an ambulance crew came hurrying down the alley carrying a stretcher.

"Are you the one who called?" A young member of the crew took out his notebook whilst the others began to assess the damage inflicted on Dean's body.

"Yeah, I heard him making weird noises…at first I thought…" Mark cut himself off, trying not to make himself feel even more stupid.

"Well, it's a good job you stopped by the looks of things. Was he fully conscious when you found him?"

"Yes, but he blacked out a few times. I think he might have hurt his head, or it's the fever. He seemed to think I was someone called Cas and then he flipped when he realized I wasn't wearing the right coat. He kept calling me a black eyed demon or something, went completely berserk!"

"Can you tell me anything else about him?"

"Only that he kept calling out for a Sam, Sammy."

"Ok, thank you for your time. Can I take down your number in case we have to contact you again?"

"Of course." Mark reeled off his number before watching as Dean was strapped to the stretcher and carried into the ambulance. He really hoped the guy would be ok, but there was nothing else he could do.

With a small sigh he turned and continued his walk home. Nothing else could go wrong.

Well, apart from him treading in a deep puddle and soaking his socks and shoes.

This really was getting ridiculous.

I miss the bad things,  
The way you hate me.  
I miss the screaming,  
The way that you blame me,  
I miss the phone calls,  
When it's your fault.  
I miss the late nights.  
Don't miss you at all.

Sam blinked blearily through his drunken stupor when his phone rang. He was just about to answer when he saw that the caller ID was Dean…then he was tempted not to pick up. His brother had just upped and left three years ago, he hadn't heard a word since, so why the hell should he answer the calls now.

By the twelfth call Sam knew he had no choice…he picked up the mobile.

"Dean what the hell do you want?" Sam made it clear in his tone that Dean was the last person on Earth, Heaven, Hell, Purgatory or anywhere in between that he wanted to talk to.

"Hello? Are you Sam?"

"Who are you? What the hell have you done to my brother?"

"I'm Nick, I work at the Colorado state hospital. I am calling to inform you that Dean has been severely injured, are you a family member?" Injured? Colorado? What the hell?

"Yeah, I'm his brother. What's wrong with him?"

"I'm afraid your brother has been a victim of a stabbing. He is in a critical, but stable condition."

"I'm on my way." Before Neil, or whatever his name was, could say another word Sam hit the end call button, grabbed his jacket and had hotwired a car faster than he could mutter a demon summoning curse. He felt sick.

Sam arrived at the hospital at breakneck speed, probably breaking a hundred highway rules along the way, and crossing a state border while he was at it. But he didn't care. Dean was hurt, badly hurt if he had allowed his ass to get dragged to hospital. Dean hated hospitals.

Sam felt terrible; Dean had disappeared three years ago after an argument, if Sam had known this would happen he would have apologized immediately for being a jerk and stopped his brother from storming out. But he hadn't, and he didn't. Three years. How the hell had three years passed?

Sam crashed over to the reception desk, knocking over three plastic chairs with his lanky legs as he went and almost causing one man to spill his bitter coffee down his work suit.

"Oi!"

Sam ignored him, slamming both hands on the reception desk, startling the receptionist and drawing all eyes onto himself. He ignored them.

"My brother, where's my brother?"

"Sir, please could you lower your tone."

"Please, I need to see him, now."

"What is your name sir?"

"Sam, I'm here to see Dean, he was taken in about an hour and a half ago. I really need to see him."

"Ok sir, if you could just take a seat I will send someone ever to brief you."

"Brief me?"

"About your brother's injuries. Please just calm down sir or I will have to ask you to leave."

"I-" Sam forced himself to stop speaking, he didn't need to dig himself into a deeper hole, Dean needed him to be there for him. Sam would be a fat lot of use if he was kicked out of the hospital.

With that in mind he headed back over to the chairs that he had uprooted, set one back onto all fours and sank onto it, burying his head in his hands.

Why was I such a jerk? How could I have said those things? God, if something happens to Dean and the last thing I ever said to him was…no. That can't happen, he'll be fine. He's always fine. But he isn't, Dean is never really fine. Shit.

"Hello son, are you Dean's brother." Sam looked up from between his fingers and roughly wiped his eyes, which were leaking tears.

"Yeah, is he…?" Sam couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.

"Your brother has just come out of surgery, he's pretty drugged up and still asleep, but you can go and see him in a bit. I just need to give you a quick run-down of the information first."

"Thank you." The words of thanks flowed out of Sam's mouth, but he didn't really have a clue about what he had been saying, or what the doctor was saying.

"…severe bruising along the abdomen and side, a high fever which we are bringing down with antibiotics, four stab wounds, two of which are infected, multiple lacerations along his left leg, bruising along his right leg, the left arm is broken in two places, possibly by being thrown to the ground and there are deep cuts across his face. Your brother is in a bad shape, but we are pretty sure he will make a full recovery given time." The doctor finished off his spiel and looked at Sam, who had gone deathly pale.

"Oh God, what have I done?"

"This isn't your fault son, this could have happened to anyone. Your brother just seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"It is my fault. I should have been with him. I should have protected him. We always have each other's backs and the one time, the one time I am a complete jackass this happens! I left him, for years. Years! How can you say it wasn't my fault?" Sam stood abruptly and made his way over to the door. "I need to see him now, please."

The doctor gave a reassuring nod and edged past Sam, leading him over to the room where Dean was sleeping.

It was a long walk and Sam tried to brace himself for what he was going to see, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him.

Dean was on some sort of breathing machine which crawled obscenely up his nose, there were different tubes sticking out of his body and to be frank, it looked like Dean was some sort of experiment. He belonged on the set of Frankenstein, not here, not in reality.

"Oh Dean." Sam bit his lip and went over to his brother's side, taking an arm- the one that was covered in bandages, but not in a sling – into his hands. When Dean’s forehead furrowed with pain Sam moved his grip to Dean’s hand. He gave it a tight squeeze, noticing the outline of bones beneath skin and being careful not to knock the cannula out.

Dean did not respond to Sam's voice, remaining completely limp and pliant in front of his brother. He looked so…un-Dean-like. Despite the nurses cleaning him up as best as they could, there were still a few smears of blood across his brother's too pale face and his heavily bandaged abdomen was only rising and falling a little. He looked so weak…Sam just couldn't comprehend it.

"Dean, don't give up on me now. You can't leave me, I can't live without you. I need you. What would I do without the constant fights over music, eh? Or you being a jerk, or yelling at me for being a bitch. There is no me without you man, you're my brother. I need you to be ok. These past few years have been hell, no, worse than hell."

Dean gave a little twitch.

"Dean!" Sam tried, and failed to keep the excitement and trepidation out of his voice.

"Mnn." Dean made a feeble attempt of pulling his hand out of Sam's grasp and an even feebler one to try and pull the tubing out of his nose.

"Dean, don't do that, leave it in. I'll get the nurse."

"Nnnn." Dean groaned meekly, his hand swatting alternately between his nose and Sam, uncertain about whether he wanted to cling to his brother or to remove the object in his nose that was burning his throat.

"Just wait a second Dean." Sam got to his feet and called out for help, moving back when the nurses came in, assessed the situation and removed the tube from Dean's nose.

"Smm." Sam hurried back over to his brother and gently rested a hand on one of the few places that wasn't covered in cuts or bruises. His forehead.

"It's ok now Dean, I'm here. I'm so sorry Dean." Sam cautiously rubbed circles into Dean's forehead, thumbing his cheek gently.

"Sammy." Dean painstakingly opened his eyes, peeling the lids apart and blinking up at his brother a few times.

"I’m right here. Are you alright?"

"Peachy." Dean forced a smile and sat up a little, groaning at the effort it took.

"Dean…"

"Sam, dn't worry bout it. M'fine. Y're one that looks l-like crap."

"Dean, I was worried sick. I'm so sorry for what happened, I wanted to call, I really did. It was all my fault."

"Wasn't."

"It was, if I hadn't made you walk out…"

"Didn't. N'one can make me d'anythin."

"Dean!"

"What's the problem? M'fine. Or d'ya j'st miss me." A sarcastic grin crossed Dean's face, but it was soon replaced by a grimace of pain.

"Yeah, sure I did. I really missed you bitching and being a pain in the ass. I missed the misery of our crappy lives!"

"Nice Sammy…s'rsly, m'fine."

"You don't look it."

"Bitch."

"Jerk." With that Dean promptly fell asleep, his mouth going slack and a trail of drool dribbling down his chin. Sam grabbed a handkerchief and wiped it away, planting a soft kiss on the tip of Dean's nose. Dean would kill him if he knew Sam was being that chick flick…then he would resurrect Sam and call him Samantha for the rest of his long, miserable life!

Sam looked down at his older brother and took his limp hand again, holding it close to his own chest and sinking down into his chair. He knew that they had their ups and downs; that kind of came with the hunting job description, but he still should have been a better brother.

Dean was always there for him, watching his back and what did he do? He threw it all back in his brother's face.

But this time, things would be different, this time he would be there to help put his brother back together, well as much as Dean would let him.

And the first thing he was going to do about it…buy a huge pie of apple pie for his brother.

I like that kick in the face,  
And the things you do to me.  
I love the way that it hurts,  
I don't miss you  
I miss the misery.

When Dean stirred he let out a gasp of pain, nausea hitting him and forcing him into a fetal position. He clutched at his heavily bandaged abdomen and felt tears begin to burn his eyes, but he wouldn't let them fall. Anyway, he had more important things to do, such as find a blanket cos he was freakin freezing his ass off. With his right arm he cautiously began to prop himself up, embarrassed by the hiss that escaped his lips, but managing to ignore the pain in his legs as he shifted his body weight.

"Huh...what? Shit, Dean, hey, hey, don't do that Dean, stay still man." Dean whimpered a little when Sam placed a firm hand upon his shoulder, which also turned out to be tender and covered in purple bruising.

"S'm. M'cold man, can you uh…"

"Sure, one sec." Sam stood and went into the hallway, asking a nurse for a blanket before hurrying back to his brother's side.

"Hey, the nurse has just gone to get you one. How are you feeling, apart from cold?"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not, don't lie to me."

"Fine, I feel like I got hit by a freakin truck. Happy?"

"Nope, not really, but we'll get there." Sam punctuated this with the all too familiar bitch-face. Anyway, first thing's first, I got you some pie."

"You are an angel. Actually, no, you're not. You aren't a dick with wings, you're just a dick."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Dean sat up a little and smiled, well, grimaced as Sam pulled the plate of pie from Dean's bedside table and grabbed the plastic fork, loading it with apple and pastry.

"M'not a kid Sam, I can feed myself."

"Suit yourself." Sam passed Dean the fork and watched as his brother's good hand shook so violently that he dropped it immediately and began to curse.

"Hey, just let me Dean."

"Fine, but if you ever mention this again I swear I'll set a midget clown on you."

"It's a deal."

"Good."

Dean smiled softly at the amazing explosion of taste in his mouth as his brother began to feed him, it was chick flick, but completely freakin worth it. However, the bliss ended as soon as he had finished eating and Sammy chose that time to decide he would no longer ignore the elephant in the room.

"Dean, what happened to you man, where were you all this time, why didn't you call, where's the Impala, why were you on the street and who the fuck did you piss off enough to make them stab you four freaking times?

"It doesn't matter man, just leave it."

"No Dean, I can't just leave this, you can tell me man."

"Drop it, I'm tired. And my head hurts."

Dean slumped down and rolled onto the side that hurt least, closing his eyes in an attempt to make Sam shut up. Of course, all this action did was jostle his broken arm and stretch the cuts on his face. He was sure one of them had just started bleeding again. Great.

"Dean, I know you're not asleep. Talk to me, please."

"About what Sam, my feelings."

"Yeah, what happened man, I know it was something big."

"I feel fine. Please just let me sleep."

"No chance."

"Well I'm not in any position to start slow dancing, so there's no point."

"Don't be sarcastic with me, just talk, then I will let you sleep, I promise."

"Sam!" Dean's voice had taken on a whining tone but when Sam turned on the puppy dog eyes he felt his resolve begin to weaken.

"Look, I really don't want to talk about it. It's in the past, just let me forget about it."

"Just tell me what happened."

"Fine, I got on the wrong side of some ass hats and they beat the shit out of me, ok?"

"Dean, that is way more damage than merely 'getting on the wrong side'."

"Leave it Sammy. Surely that's the least you can do?!" Dean knew it was a low blow, but he didn't want to tell Sam. He didn't want to relive that night; he just wanted to forget the pain. Was that too much to ask?

"Dean..." That was all it took, the pure, unadulterated pain in his baby brother's voice. That was all it took for Dean's wall to come crumbling down.

"Look, I was hustling pool, beat a group's asses and went to get a beer. Then, I saw one of the people I had beaten shove some chick, so I told him to back off and we threw a couple of punches." Dean paused to rub his forehead. He hadn't been lying when he said he had a headache and was tired. Medication did not agree with him!

"Anyway, I thought that was it, but some of his mates and him thought it would be a good laugh to follow me back to the motel. Then they, well…" Dean gestured towards his battered body before continuing, wincing away from the flashback in his head as if with any movement he could escape the images of drunken men leering down at him with knives.

"Well, one of them had a knife and they were drunk off their heads. It just escalated and it was seven on one…you can guess the rest. The stage went black, the curtain went down and all that."

"Shit Dean, I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"S'not your fault, there was nothing you could have done about it, anyway, I'm fine now. If it was anyone's fault it was mine. I should have fought harder, if I had just thought through Dad's training…" Dean's voice trailed away and he felt tears build up in his eyes, but once again refused to let them fall.

"Dean, Dad's gone, I know it's hard, but you really need to pull through this, you need to talk to someone. Or me dude, please."

"No Sam, I don't. I'm dealing with Dad's death. Are you?"

"Dean, drop the macho act, we both know it's shit."

"Fuck off." Dean shot Sam a death glare and Sam was sure that if his brother wasn't so drugged up and hurt, he would have been throwing punches.

After ten minutes Sam could no longer bear the silence.

"Dean."

"Quit it Sammy."

"But where have you been?"

"Here and there."

"You should have called."

"It's a two way line y'know. Anyway, I'm tired, so shut your cake hole and let me sleep."

Dean closed his eyes again and tried to get comfortable, eventually falling asleep. But not before he hear Sam whisper that he was sorry and felt his brother's hand taking his own, holding it tight as Dean drifted into oblivion.

"N-No, don't…please."

"Dean, Dean, wake up!"

"No. STOP."

"Wake up man." Sam gingerly shook his brother's shoulder, trying to wake him up and flinching as his brother began to thrash in his sleep, no doubt jarring his wounds.

"PLEASE." Dean thrashed harder, whimpering and groaning until Sam grabbed a bottle of water and flicked some across his brother's face, forcing him to snap awake and upright.

"Dude, what the hell?!"

"Sorry, you were…um, yeah."

"Sorry, it was just a stupid dream…shit, my stomach hurts."

"Do you want me to call the nurse?"

"No."

Sam took that as a yes and soon Dean was back in a dreamless, drug induced sleep. Of course, he had managed to flirt with the hot nurse first, just before she stuck a needle worth of morphine in his arm and applied another IV. Even with his face covered in cuts and bruises, his bones jutting out at all angles and his body mutilated and smashed to pieces, Dean still knew how to work the Winchester charm. He'd even made some wise crack joke before going under.

The next morning Dean woke up and grunted an acknowledgement to Sam, winking at him as a nurse came in, took off his hospital gown and began to re-dress the bandages. He only screwed his face up in pain when she had left the room.

The world was spinning and although Dean made sure to fit in a few snarky remarks first, he soon fell fast asleep again.

And another nightmare took hold of him.

"SAMMY!"

Sam, who had nodded off himself after a sleepless night, jolted awake with a start and once again watched as Dean paled and began to moan in his sleep. Shit! Those idiots had really done Dean over one!

"C'mon Dean, wakey wakey. Rise and shine man, DEAN!" Dean blinked up blearily at his brother and took in his wide puppy dog eyes, grimacing when he realized that he was, once again, making a fool of himself and showing weakness.

"Relax Dean; I won't take the mick…not yet anyway. I'll save it for the next time your being a jerk."

"Bitch."

"Whatever."

Dean closed his eyes again and began thinking happy thoughts. The Impala, his first time hunting, fireworks in some deserted field when they were kids, playing soldiers, being soldiers – fighting monsters, Sammy's tenth birthday, Sam's sixteenth birthday, taking Sam out for his first round of drinks as a legal man. Sleeping with that gorgeous red head…and coming home so drunk that Sam had to put him to bed…

No one could hurt Dean as much as Sammy. And no one could make his heart fill with love like Sammy could.

No amount of arguments, pain or misery could make him forget that.

And with those comforting thoughts, Dean fell back asleep. He deserved to be lazy once in a while.

Sam smiled down at his brother and once again took his hand.

It would be tough, but he knew that he and Dean would be inseparable for now on. Yes there were times when Dean drove him crazy, especially when he was drunk, but Sam had really missed him, the tears, the fights, the drunken showdowns, the hunts, the adrenaline rush…he had definitely missed the misery and chaos whilst Dean had been away.

He would ensure that he was there for Dean 24/7, especially whilst he was recovering. He would cook, clean, pay the bills; take care of Dean's dressings and meds. He would do everything and anything for his brother.

He would never drive Dean away again.

And, once his older brother had recovered, was back to a healthy weight and ready to hunt again, he would have his back.

No harm would ever come to Dean again, be it from any monster, Wendigo, Vampire, Vengeful Spirit, you name it. But he was most determined to protect Dean from other humans, it was clear to Sam that humans were the cruelest species. 

Something like this would never happen again.

Not on his watch.

…

Dean stirred with a low groan, rubbing his head and somewhat regretting his seventh beer the night before. Oh, and the whiskey shots. He may, or may not have gotten over excited at the prospect of being discharged from the hospital and being free to head home. Well, as much as he could call a motel home, which was not much. And of course a trip to a local bar was in order after weeks of being tee-total in hospital…well, apart from the whiskey Sam had snuck in.

"Morning Dean, how ya doing?" Sam looked perky; he was bopping from foot to foot with a protein shake in one hand and a bowl of fruit salad in the other. And, he was being loud. Really loud. Dean would have sworn that he was crunching the melon deliberately and that he was taking particular care to slurp his healthy gunge, or shake, or liquefied hell – whatever you want to call it.

"Shuddup!" Dean rolled a little and pulled a pillow over his head, grimacing as this move jolted his stomach. But Sam didn't notice…said pillow blocked his brother's face from view.

He then curled over and fell fast asleep again, mumbling in distress as a nightmare hit him less than half an hour later.

A tall man was leering over him, yelling in Dean's face with a knife pressed to Dean's stomach. He was vaguely aware of the others hovering behind him, but there was no way he could get away. The pain bursting through his stomach was already unbearable.

"SAMMY!"

"Dean, wake up. Now!" Dean stirred and looked at his brother. So much for alcohol preventing nightmares!

"M'nn tired." Dean pulled the pillow up over his head, trying to steady his breathing. Sam wasn't having any of it. He lifted the pillow up and before Dean could grab it, he had chucked it across the motel room.

"You look shit; do ya want somethin to eat man?"

"N'ghh."

"I don't think that's a word, c'mon, up and at 'em, I need to check in at the library. And you need to eat something"

"G'yon your own. Stomach h'rts like a bitch." Dean yawned loudly and closed his eyes.

"PARDON? I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

"You are such a bitch, Bitch."

"JERK!"

"Urgh, I hate you!"

"I know you do." Sam grinned at his brother and shook him by the shoulders, only realizing that he had gone too far when he heard Dean let out a low moan, threw back his covers and hobble to the motel bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

Maybe Dean wasn't putting on the hungover act.

His brother did have a habit of overreacting, but judging by the retching sounds coming from the other room and the fact that he could see his brothers heaving form through the open door, Sam gathered that Dean was not faking.

Sam sighed, grabbed a glass of water and cautiously knelt down next to his brother, rubbing the least tender area of Dean’s back and feeling guilty for the slight amusement that this was bringing him. Dean really did ask for it sometimes, and god had he missed picking up the pieces and helping Dean through the misery of overindulging on alcohol.

"S'm."  
“Yeah?”

"Thanks man." Dean lessened his grip on the toilet and raised his head from the cool lid, grimacing slightly before adding, "maybe I had one too many."

"Yeah, maybe one too many, or five. How are the war wounds by the way?"

"Fine."

"How are they really?"

"Drop it!"

"Dean." 

That was an impressive bitch face!

"Better, seriously, but my arm is still useless and my stomach hurts like a bitch. Apart from that all is good."

"Well, I guess that's something. You ready for some food now?"

"Yeah, I need to make up for all that hospital crap that they disguise as edible." And those nights when I didn't have enough money from hustling pool, or when he had been lying beaten on the ground unable to get anything to eat or drink with a recently emptied stomach. Not fun.

"Good, cos I picked you up some pie and pancakes from the breakfast table."

"You, Sammy, are a star."

"I know."

Two stacks of pancakes and a slice of pie later, Sam and Dean were crashed on the sofa watching a movie. 

That was until the phone rang.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Nope, try again."

"Dean?"

"Got it in two, not bad for an old man!"

"Where the hell have you been boy, I’ve been worried sick! Since when are you and Sammy batting for the same side. You haven't talked for years. Is Sam hurt? I told you boys to keep out of trouble."

"Nah, Sammy's fine. I got a bit beaten up so he picked me up from hospital."

"Hospital?! You never go to hospital."

"A bit beaten up, Dean you were cream crackered!" Bobby could hear Sam's voice in the background and smirked, god how he loved those boys.

"You pair of idjits, did it really take a trip to the quacks to get you back together?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Stupid boys. Anyway, I have a hunt for ya, if you’re up for it."

"Sure thing, what you got for us?"

"A rugaru up in Ohio.”

"Yeah, sure."

"No Dean, you have to rest!" Sam interjected. Bobby couldn't help but laugh at his end of the line.

"Sammy, people are dying."

"You still need rest!"

"Nope, I'm great. If I spend another week in bed I swear to god I will go mad!"

"We’ll take it."

"You sure, Sam sounds a bit resistant over there!"

"She's just being a girl, aren't you Samantha!"

"JERK!"

"Fine, let me know when you gank the son of a bitch."

Sam sighed.

And so it begins. Again. But this time, together.

THE END


End file.
